


A Stone Unturned

by Merely_Specters



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Books!, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Season/Series 02, Stand Alone, The Scooby Gang (BtVS), typical season two bangel shennanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merely_Specters/pseuds/Merely_Specters
Summary: When Buffy kissed a statue, she didn’t realize that she would release a group of powerful vampires from their imprisonment—or that the statue she kissed would come alive. Just her luck.
Relationships: Angel/Buffy Summers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15
Collections: I Will Remember You





	1. Prologue: Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very loosely based on a prompt by @sweetanyways on Tumblr: "[kisses a marble statue but then they unexpectedly come to life and now i have to help them escape the museum they were stuck in]"
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As the blade passed through his torso, Angelus gasped, shutting his eyes involuntarily. He staggered back, feeling cold blood seep onto his crisp white shirt.

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask _why_ , but all that came out was a strangled groan. It was getting harder and harder to move—a result of the pain, no doubt. Angelus nearly collapsed, but, surprising himself, his legs didn’t buckle or bend. He remained frozen in place, his knees locked beneath him.

Angelus moved to grab the hilt of the sword, but in the darkness, he couldn’t reach, his arms stopping short in front of his body. It occurred to Angelus that his eyes were still closed, so he tried to open them, tried to look and see what had happened to the others.

Nothing happened.

He tried to scream, but the words wouldn’t pass through his lips. He tried to move, but his arms didn’t respond to his pleas.

His eyes remained closed, leaving him in darkness.


	2. Close

Sunnydale seemed entirely too small to have a museum, yet have a museum it did. In fact, it had two: the Sunnydale Historical Museum and the Sunnydale Natural History Museum. Most days, their halls were empty, even when ticket prices were slashed. After all, in Sunnydale, you didn’t need to go to a museum to see the strange. Neither museum could possibly get any revenue, yet, against all logic, they stayed open, even earning enough to warrant the occasional visit—by vampires, that is.

“Alright,” Giles said, surrounded by the Scoobies in the school library, “A group of vampires are looking to acquire an artifact at the museum tonight for a ritual on Saturday. They are actively working against the Anointed One, so they won’t have back-up.”

Willow frowned. “Why Saturday?”

“This Saturday is ‘the Night of Saint Vigeous,’ a holy night of attack. Looks as though they may be crowning a successor to the Master that night.”

Buffy sat on the desk, twirling her stake. “I take it this is the usual slash, stab, and slay?” she said lazily, punctuating her last word by stabbing the air before her.

“Precisely.”

Buffy leaped off the table. “Well then, time to go slaying.”

She and the Scoobies walked out the door, but they soon turned back around. “Which museum is it, exactly?”

Giles sighed.

†

It was quiet, quieter than it had been in the last exhibit. Angelus could hear muffled footsteps as people walked by, muttered conversation. He caught a few snippets: something about stakes and the Master. _Vampires, then_.

But as soon as he registered the sound, he heard yelling and the telltale sound of vampires becoming dust. He’d grown quite good at distinguishing it over the years.

Then, all was silent. A new set of voices started to talk—

†

Buffy wiped off her stake.

“Didn’t they get the memo they’d be facing the Slayer? That was pathetically easy.” Buffy joked.

"Must not have been prepared," Willow suggested.

"Good thing Giles wasn't here," Xander said 

With the vampires dusted and scattered across the floor of the Natural History Museum hall, the building was empty save for those three young souls (and a security guard, not that the Scoobies knew that), the three were left alone... in an abandoned museum... at night. With both the vampires and Giles out of the way, and a deserted museum at their fingertips… well. It was only a matter of time before someone did something remarkably stupid.

“Truth or dare,” Xander said.

The dares started out tame enough, with Xander pocketing a commemorative coin from the gift shop and Willow moving one of the exhibit's mannequins. Then—

“I dare you to kiss the statue,” Xander said to Buffy.

They all knew _the_ statue in question. The marble figure was as lifelike as all the others in the main exhibit hall; the style was Grecian, yet the clothing was different, almost Victorian. Its head looked forward as he reached outward, the arms stretched perpendicular to his chest. It was one of a series, Buffy gathered; the other three were spread around it in the room. The plaque on its base read “ _A Fallen Angel — 1900_.”

What set this statue apart was the sword in its abdomen: a _real_ sword. The sign said that the sculptors had inserted it after the statue had already been carved. The sword was, indeed, beautiful, with gilded snakes curling around the hilt: the " _Sword of Medusa._ "

There was no denying that the statue was attractive, if a bit stone-faced.

Willow looked scandalized, covering her face. “Giles would kill you!”

Xander smirked. “He isn’t around to see it, is he?”

Buffy looked up at the statue and back at Xander. He raised an eyebrow, taunting her.

Buffy raised her chin, undaunted. “Fine.” She walked up to the statue, stepping upon its pedestal. She looked back at Xander and Willow (who, despite herself, was peeking through her fingers at Buffy) and looked up at the statue’s face.

The man had a charming face, though it was frozen into a pained expression. His eyes were closed; his lips, pursed.

Buffy was too short, however, to actually reach those lips. The statue stood tall above her, his head pointed forward and away from where she stood. Buffy looked around for some kind of support, a case she could use to climb up. Nothing. She finally decided to use the sword sticking from its abdomen as leverage to draw herself nearer to the statue’s face. She was finally close, close enough to kiss the statue.

So she did.

All of a sudden, the sword beneath her shifted, and Buffy fell. She desperately grabbed onto the sword in an attempt to right herself, but it slid out of place, tumbling with Buffy onto the floor.

Willow and Xander rushed toward her.

“Are you alright?” Willow asked.

“Some kiss,” Xander teased.

Buffy sat up, almost cutting herself on the sword now clutched in her hands. “Oh, Giles is going to be _mad_ ,” she said, grimacing. She looked up at the statue.

It looked down at her, eyes wide open.

Buffy blinked. No, it wasn’t just a trick of the light: the statue’s eyes were open, now. _Maybe they had never been closed in the first place._

She was about to replace the sword when—

A jingle of keys from around the corner startled them out of their reverie. A security guard.

“Let’s bounce,” Buffy whispered. Willow and Xander nodded, and the three of them stole away toward the exit.

A few minutes later, the security guard finally made his way around the corner, shining his flashlight at the exhibit before him. Everything seemed in its place, save for a lone sword on the ground.

The security guard frowned, looking for where the sword should be, but he saw nothing. The pedestal that it lay before was empty. He thought he saw movement, but when he turned his light to the area, the only thing he saw were statues. Satisfied, he looked back down at the sword.

There was a scraping sound, but the guard barely had time to register it before he felt a sharp pain in his neck. His neck _snapped_ , and his body tumbled to the ground.

Three statues stepped over the body and walked out into the night.

One stayed.


	3. Discovery

The Scoobies practically skipped into the library the next morning.

“How did the museum outing go?” Giles asked, reading the newspaper.

Buffy smiled, almost too wide. “It went great!”

Xander nodded vigorously. “We didn’t break anything… or anything like that.”

Giles frowned, a bit confused. “You didn’t break anything?”

Willow laughed uncomfortably. “Nope. Nothing. Neither did the vampires.”

Giles adjusted his glasses. “Then we have a problem on our hands.” He passed the newspaper to Buffy—in bright, bold letters, the headline read, “Security guard found dead. Priceless statues stolen from local museum.”

Buffy looked at Giles. “That wasn’t us.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Giles wiped his glasses. “It’s not a stretch to imagine that another group of vampires tampered with those statues after you all left. After all, the vampires you stopped weren’t the only ones searching for artifacts.”

Buffy frowned. “Giles, you wouldn’t happen to know what those vampires were looking for, would you?”

“From the research I conducted while you were at the museum, they seemed to be looking for some kind of cursed object, something that could bring back 'an heir to the Master,'" he read from the book. "It appears that many of them are unsatisfied with the Anointed’s rule of Sunnydale.”

“Would it happen to be a sword?” Buffy said casually.

“I don’t exactly know.” At that, Giles narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t know anything about what happened, would you?”

At Buffy’s grimace, Giles sighed. “Tell me everything.”

†

After Sunnydale’s police investigated the area, they left the museum to question the curator, and the Historical Museum was cordoned off for the day.

The afternoon came, and everybody had left the museum for dead. The exhibits were still. Save for four missing statues, everything was in its place, safe behind glass.

Down a twisted hallway, behind three sets of doors, a lone storage closet creaked open, and a man made of marble exited from his hiding place. Angelus walked slowly, as if moving through water.

Listening all the while for voices, he made his way toward the main exhibit hall. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating dust hovering in the hallways. Angelus finally made it to the main room. Where the other rooms were bright, a single skylight lit up the room, above which the noon sun was visible. The room was filled to the brim with artwork: where darkness fell, a halo of fluorescent light illuminated the art. Cases of jewelry and sculptures lined the walls, and statues stood at every turn. He paused as if seeing the room for the first time: indeed, with the room now lit, he was.

He snapped back to task and scanned the room. He cursed under his breath. There was no remnant of his companions, nor the sword.

At the same moment, Buffy looked up at the museum structure in front of her. Sun clipped off onto the glass windows, glaring at her.

“Alright,” she said, “Let's get to work.”

As Angelus heard footsteps approaching, he crouched onto an empty pedestal, attempting to blend in. The sounds got closer and closer: he sat unmoving, camouflaged by the presence of the other statues.

The Scoobies made a beeline to the central chamber where the statues had been stored. Buffy was reminded of a trip she took to the Getty with her mom; she would love this exhibit.

Buffy squinted to get her bearings in the darkened room. Bright spotlights shined down on each of the empty pedestals, clearly marking those that were missing.

Buffy looked around the room at the other statues, spotting one that hadn’t been there the night prior. She approached, stooping to look at its face.

It blinked.

“Guys? I found one,” Buffy said, taking out the axe at her side. She didn’t swing, not yet.

The statue, its cover blown, stumbled back away from Buffy. Its eyes swung wildly from Buffy to the rest of the exhibit, scanning for the exit, but before he could make his move, the rest of the Scoobies closed in all holding weapons of their own. The statue was surrounded.

Xander lifted his axe to strike, but Giles held out a hand. “Wait. It could have information.”

“Alright buster,” Buffy said, “why’d you kill the guard?”

The statue clutched at its throat; its mouth began to move, but it continued to be silent.

Buffy frowned. _It doesn’t seem to want to hurt me._ “Are you… trying to say something?”

The statue gestured toward another exhibit, one with a manuscript on display.

“Oh!” Willow exclaimed. “Do you want paper?”

The statue nodded vigorously. Willow fished through her belongings, pulling out a notebook and pen. The statue took it from her and began furiously writing, showing it to them once he finished writing. “ _I’m not going to harm you.”_

Xander guffawed. “Like you could.” Even so, he gripped his axe tightly.

The statue continued to write, _“I’m not a statue; I was cursed_.”

Buffy frowned. “Cursed? By the sword?”

At that, the statue’s head shot up, and he nodded.

“Were the other three statues cursed as well?” Giles asked.

A dark look flashed across the statue’s face. He wrote, “ _Vampires imprisoned for their crimes. They killed the security guard_.”

At that, Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “So those statues were after the heirs to the Master.”

The statue nodded.

Giles frowned. “And you’re not?”

He paused, his pen going still on the page. After a moment, he continued, “ _No. With my help, a group of witches imprisoned them in marble, but I was forced to bear it to keep the curse enacted. The sword within me maintained the curse. Now, with the sword gone, their power will grow until they have enough strength to break free of this marble cage_.”

“How long will that take?” Buffy asked.

The statue shrugged, seemingly lost. “ _My best guess is the next new moon; that’s when the curse was originally cast. All I know is that if I get the sword again, we can recast the curse and bind them all once more_.”

Giles nodded. “Then our number one priority is finding the sword.”

“ _I know these vampires, where they’ll go, what they’ll do. I can help._ ”

Willow grimaced. “We can’t exactly come to the museum during school hours.”

“We’ll just take him with us,” Buffy said. “Giles, he can stay in your apartment, right?”

Giles stuttered. “Well, I have a couch, but—”

“Great!” Buffy clapped her hands together. “You’ll stay with Giles, Mr…” Buffy tilted her head. “Actually, do you have a name?”

The statue hesitated, then shrugged.

Buffy thought for a moment. “You’re the ‘Fallen Angel,’ right? How about just Angel?”

The statue smiled.

“Angel it is.”

“Buffy, may I speak to you a moment?” Giles said. He pulled her aside. “We don’t know anything about this ‘Angel.’ Who knows if he’s telling the truth.”

Buffy looked back at Angel, standing awkwardly amidst the glass cases of the exhibit. “I know, but it’s not as if we have a choice. We just don’t want anyone else to find him out here.”

Giles nodded. “Fair point.”

“Besides,” Buffy said, lower this time, “If push comes to shove, I’m probably the only one who could kill him anyways.”

†

The Scoobies secreted Angel away from the museum, managing, through sheer force of will and dumb luck, to conceal him in on the floor of the Giles’s car. As Buffy opened the door to sit down herself, she paused. The light hit his face through the window, even as he ducked, trying to avoid it.

She recognized him… his lips. _Uh oh._

_Friends close, and enemies closer, I guess._

†

The sewers were worse than Darla remembered them. Somehow, in a hundred years, humans had managed to progress so much and yet accomplish so little—now, they just hid their faults better, below ground.

She stepped into a puddle with a splash. Muck now stained the bottom of her marble shoe. _Wonderful._

She turned to look at Spike and Drusilla, still joined at the hip. They were insufferable, but at least now she didn’t have to hear their lovestruck sighing. The three trudged in silence, none able to articulate their thoughts to one another besides through action and touch.

Darla held out a hand, stopping the group in their tracks. A porthole and ladder hung above them. Darla gestured for Spike to climb up. After giving Dru a peck, he complied. Each step on the ladder elicited a loud clanging; Drusilla grimaced, covering her ears.

Spike moved the manhole cover, and sunlight streamed down, hitting his face. He silently yelped, falling backward onto the ground with a _thud_. The sunlight still hit his face, though, so he moved away.

As he began getting up, though, he stopped. He stayed in the sunlight, waving off Drusilla’s frantic motions. He held a hand in the sunlight—

Nothing happened.

Grinning, he looked to Darla and Drusilla. He darted back up the ladder, fully removing the porthole. He stepped out into the light.

Darla waited with bated breath as his shadow flitted out.

Spike returned a few moments later, peeking through the hole with a grin. He mouthed, _it’s safe_.

Darla pushed Drusilla forward, and she climbed the ladder, too. Neither did she burn.

A smile began to pull at Darla’s lips. She climbed up the ladder into the light.


	4. Presents

Giles drove back to his home, the Scoobies crammed into the backseat. Finally, they pulled up into the driveway.

“It never occurred to me that you actually lived somewhere,” Buffy said, looking at the apartment in front of her. “I always assumed that you just slept in the school basement.”

"I'm not a gremlin, Buffy," Giles said. 

As Giles spoke, Angel tentatively looked around at the world from inside the car. He took in his modern surroundings, all basked in a mid-afternoon sheen.

“We don’t have all day, statue dude,” Xander said, shoving Angel forward from inside the car. Angel staggered forward into the sun, hesitating before finally heading toward the doorway .

“Come in, come in.” Giles ushered them all inside. "This is terribly inappropriate for a librarian," he muttered.

Once they all entered, Giles put a kettle on. “Here," he said to Angel, proffering a college-ruled notebook. “Write down what you know.”

Angel took it, along with the ballpoint pen on the desk, and began spewing information onto the paper. He named the vampires who’d been imprisoned with him: Spike, Drusilla, and Darla. “ _The Whirlwind._ ”

“ _Darla was a member of the Order of Aurelius, once upon a time. Turned by the Master himself._ ”

“Well, at least we got the Master out of the way,” Buffy said.

Angel frowned, and wrote, “ _The Master’s dead?_ ”

Buffy nodded. “We killed him last year.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “ _That must have taken a lot of skill._ ”

Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, well, I nearly died in the process. Technically, I did.”

Angel nodded, impressed. 

“If they’re vampires, we’ll just stake them,” Xander said.

Angel grimaced.

“Not that easy?” Buffy supplied.

“ _It would be like staking me—you’d have to get past the marble. It should disappear completely at some point in the future, but then we’d have another problem to worry about. The spell trapping them went wrong: instead of killing the Whirlwind, the sword siphoned power from curse and imbued them with it. Once they emerge from the marble, they’ll be even stronger than the Master.”_

The Scoobies collectively grimaced.

“How do we stop it, then?”

“ _By returning the blade to its place in me._ ”

Giles adjusted his glasses. “In that case, we better find the sword before it’s too late.”

†

Elsewhere, the Anointed One was having a bit of a day, as it were. He sat on his throne-like chair flanked by vampires. No one looked particularly happy, each glaring at the others.

What he didn’t know was that it was soon to get worse.

“What were they looking for?” the Anointed One asked the vampire kneeling before him.

“The Whirlwind, sire. But they were unsuccessful; the Slayer killed them before they could attain the artifact.”

“I wouldn’t call it unsuccessful,” a rasping voice called out from above.

All the vampires looked up—

Framed against the drawn curtains was a vampire seated on a cage. He leaned forward, gripping a chain as he swung down. When he hit the ground, there was a _thud_ as stone collided with stone.

“About time. Always the drama queen, Spike,” another voice chimed in. Darla. From behind the Anointed One stepped Darla and Drusilla. Both were encased in marble save for their shoes; there, the fabric of their clothes swished, and color blossomed.

“It took bloody long to get up there. I wasn’t going to waste an entrance on the wrong moment,” Spike replied.

A vampire lunged at Spike, but he dodged, ripping the chain forward and wrapping it around around the vampire’s neck. “These all you got? We heard big things about you.”

Drusilla walked over to Spike’s side, linking her arm in his even as he kept the chain wrapped around the vampire’s throat.

“Still can’t speak, baby?” he asked. She leaned in, whispering something into his ear. He grinned. “She wants me to tell you that the little boy’s crown is gonna shatter.”

“Quite poetic, if you ask me,” Darla said. She pushed past the group toward the Anointed One. “Now, we’ve come to kindly ask you to step down. If you do, you won’t get hurt.”

“Much,” Spike said.

“Quiet,” Darla snapped.

The Anointed One raised his chin. “We are countless… but I only see three of you.”

“We’re working on that,” Darla said, a sneer on her face. “Is that your final decision?”

The vampires around her moved in, forming a barrier between the Anointed One and her.

“In that case…” Darla trailed off.

Darla leaped over the vampires, vaulting over their wall. She moved quickly to the boy’s side, then whipped out a stake. In one smooth motion, she brought it down into his heart, and he scattered across the seat.

Darla turned back toward the vampires, their mouths agape.

“Any questions?”

†

Unfortunately, finding the sword was easier said than done. In the next few weeks, vampires maintained near radio silence: even midnight graveyard slayings hit an all-time low. The number of missing persons, however, sky-rocketed, but no matter where Buffy searched, she found no trace.

All that was left to do was wait.

One day after school, Buffy took a stop at Giles’s to pick up one of his personal books. Buffy stopped short, though, when she came upon Angel sitting on the couch. When he heard her step in, he turned to her, putting down the book he had been reading.

“What’cha reading?” Buffy asked.

Angel held up the book cover: _Guns, Germs, and Steel_. A history book.

“Catching up, I see. One of Giles’s?”

Angel’s lips moved, but then he stopped, remembering. He picked up his pen and wrote, “ _I’ve been reading Giles’s books, but I only have a few left to go_.”

“You know, since you’re technically not supposed to be alive, I don’t think you can get a library card.”

Angel nodded. “ _I’ll have to be content with my own company._ ”

“You know, I can bring you some books. I’ll ask Giles for some recommendations.”

A hint of a smile pulled at Angel’s mouth. He nodded.

Buffy clapped her hands together. “Alright! Books it is.”

Over the next few weeks, Buffy became a regular at the public library. She started with history, but then diverged into fiction. _The Harry Potter_ books came first by Willow’s recommendation, then the _Chronicles of Narnia._

“Essential for pop culture references,” she justified when Angel asked. “They may be children’s books, but they’re important.”

Buffy struck a chord when she brought Agatha Christie—Angel ate up the mystery novels. First _And Then There Were None_ , then the exploits of Hercule Poirot. She stopped by the apartment after school each day with a new mystery or magazine.

“You know that I live there,” Giles told her at the library. “I can bring him these books myself.”

“Oh, but you’re hosting him,” Buffy scrambled, “You know, it’s no trouble at all.”

Giles frowned, but conceded, “Alright.”

“Just take him on a date already,” Willow stage whispered to Buffy. Buffy rolled her eyes and took out the next book instead.

“ _Murder on the Orient Express_ ,” she told Angel when she got to his room. “It’s a short read—Willow said that she read it in a day—but I also got a few magazines, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

As Angel picked up the book, Buffy noticed the color in his hands. His hands were now flesh, even if most of the rest of his body remained marble.

Angell’s lips moved, and this time, he spoke. “Thanks,” he croaked. A faint Irish lilt softened his words as he spoke.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You talked!”

Angel smiled. “Working on it,” he said, the volume barely above a whisper. 

“Don’t talk too much; I won’t be able to get a word in.”

Angel laughed silently. He wrote, “ _I’m sure that won’t be a problem. You talk enough for the both of us._ ”

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

Angel’s only reply was a smile.

“Fine. Be like that. I have the power here: I’ll just cut your book supply.”

Angel threw up his hands in silent defeat.

†

Angel paced from side to side of Giles’s living room, music playing as he moved from one side to another. When he heard the door open, he startled, whirling around to face—Giles. Not Buffy.

“Broke into my records?”

Angel turned the music down so Giles could hear his voice. “It gets a bit quiet when you can barely speak.”

“Ah.” Giles paused a moment. Then— “Why you?”

Angel frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Giles set his things down. “You decided to sacrifice yourself to trap three vampires. Why not a witch? Why you?”

Angel’s face darkened. “It was necessary.” His voice trailed off on the last word.

Giles set his books down upon the front table. “See, that’s vague and inconclusive. You keep giving us these answers without telling us the full story.”

This time, he picked up a paper and wrote, “ _It’s a bit hard to explain without speaking_.”

“You have a pen and you have paper. Write a letter.” Giles grabbed a mug and went upstairs.

Angel stopped the music completely. He sat back down on the couch, and picked up his notebook.


	5. Stakes

A boy was walking alone at night from the Bronze. This wasn’t an entirely uncommon occurrence in Sunnydale, though you might assume that the community would have learned not to do so by now. He would have been in his van, but, as it so happened on that night, his band had needed it to bring some equipment back to the warehouse.

The redhead hummed on the way, but when the bushes beside him rustled, he stopped, cocking his head to listen. He scanned the yards around him: the only thing out of place was a flickering street light ahead. When he was satisfied, he continued on his merry way, a Hansel who unfortunately would not be killing his witch.

When he began walking again, Darla struck.

†

Buffy exited the Bronze with Willow and Xander in tow.

Willow laughed. “Buffy, you’re a menace.”

Buffy threw up her hands. “Look, I’m sorry; I thought the cat was a vampire. I was just on edge.”

“In this vamp economy? You’d be lucky if you ran into one at all,” Xander said.

“At least it didn’t die,” Willow said. “I’ve almost killed a raccoon or two with my bike.”

They chatted, heading down the lowly lit roads back toward Buffy’s house. A few of the street lights were out, the poles bent. It looked as though someone had rammed into it with their car.

“Geez, what are we paying the mayor for if he doesn’t fix things like this?” Xander said.

“Must have been recent,” Buffy said.

“Maybe that cat you staked got super vampire powers and decided to exact revenge on the light,” Willow said.

“Should we call someone? Report it?” Willow asked.

Xander shook his head. “Nah, some neighborhood watch person probably already has. God, it smells out here—”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “That’s not you, Xander?”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Ha ha. I’m laughing.”

The group continued their conversation, walking along the road. As they turned the corner, though, all the lights were out—the neighborhood was pitch black, save for a few lit windows. Buffy slowed down.

There was something in the street.

She took out her stake just as Willow pulled out a flashlight. She clicked it on, revealing… bodies. A pile of them, splayed along the street, all with tell-tale bite marks on the necks.

The light flickered as Willow dropped her flashlight, shocked. Xander stepped back. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Buffy stood frozen, looking at the collection in front of her.

Suddenly, one of the bodies began shifting, getting up. Buffy rushed forward to help, but the person turned toward her: vampire. Buffy stuck her stake in him, and he crumbled to dust.

The person beside them shifted… and the next. And the next.

Buffy stumbled back as countless dead began shaking themselves off, standing up. She turned to Xander and Willow.

“Run. Go to Giles.”

Without missing a beat, Xander and Willow began sprinting back, Willow taking out her pager.

All the while, Buffy stood her ground, facing down the hoard.

Xander burst into Giles’s home first. “Vampires,” he said, breathless.

Giles looked up from his place at the desk. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” Willow answered, following Xander through the door. “Almost an army.”

Giles stood up. “Where’s Angel?”

“He’s not here?” Willow asked.

Giles looked around and cursed. “No time, we need to go,” he said, grabbing his coat and stake.

On the streets outside, Angel prowled, a stake clutched in his hand like a prayer. He spotted a woman walking past and ducked into a back alley, waiting until she passed by to reemerge. He looked around… no vampires to be seen. No danger. Nothing to _do_.

He heard a rustling up ahead: jogging, he ran up to the dimly lit area, and stopped short.

 _Here be vampires_. Dozens, all converging toward one spot— _wait. Buffy?_

In the middle of the horde, Buffy staked the first few with ease, but as more and more of the horde began to awake, she realized just how many there actually were, all new vampires looking for their very first kill.

She strafed right as the first lunged at her, catching him in the back with ease. _A guy from my class. Reported missing a week ago._ She pulled another toward her, using him as leverage to kick another vampire away, then turned back to stake her. _Brenna from the grocery store_. Buffy dived down as two vampires attacked her, ramming their heads together as she disappeared. She leaped back up, staking one, then two.

The vampires started to form groups, aiming to overwhelm her. Buffy looked around for cover, dashing over to one of the houses. She sidestepped bodies attempting to get up, staking any that came within range. The house’s door was already ajar, so Buffy ran inside, slamming it shut behind her.

The vampires pounded at the windows, at the door; Buffy locked it behind her, grabbing a nearby chair to barricade it. She looked around, her eyes landing on a table. She broke off the end, forming a second stake.

Buffy ran up the stairs, waiting at the top in case the vampires broke through. _Which hopefully they wouldn’t, because that would mean the house’s inhabitants were—_

The door caved, with vampiric hands reaching toward her.

_—dead._

The first vampire broke through, leaping over the chair. He ran up, and Buffy caught him in the chest. More vampires followed, but they were funneled up the stairs, forced into an almost single-file line. Buffy tossed nearby decorations down the stairs: a picture frame that shattered on impact, a trophy, a wooden statuette. Soon, the more tactical vampires stopped coming up the stairs, circling the base and looking for another way up.

But Buffy soon heard cries from outside, screams. She gave up her position to run to the window—

Angel. He dove at vampires, overwhelming them with blunt force as he used his marble form to cave in chests.

A crash reminded Buffy of the situation on the inside of the house: two vampires stood at the top of the stairs.

Buffy held her two stakes to either side. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to mess with slayers? Or did you miss that day of orientation?”

The vampires stalked toward Buffy, but Buffy refused to take the first move, leaving them in a stalemate.

The front door slammed against the wall on the first floor—when the vampires turned to look, Buffy made her move, leaping toward the first vampire and putting him in a headlock. As the second vampire turned around, snarling, Buffy wrenched the first in front of her, using him as a meat shield.

But the second vampire was grabbed from behind, vanishing down the stairs with a screech.

Buffy kept a tight lock on the vampire in her arms even as he kicked. All of a sudden, as if remembering his transformation, his face shifted and he bit down on her arm. Buffy let him go with a yelp, shaking him off as the blood dribbled down his chin.

“That’s cheating,” Buffy said.

The vampire shrugged, then they both dove; the vampire, for the neck, and Buffy, for his chest. Soon, dust coated her stake.

Buffy listened for movement, but heard nothing outside. She looked down the stairs, finding Angel dust-covered at its bottom. He looked up at her, a pained expression on his face. “How many?”

“Dozens. I knew a lot of them.”

Angel cursed under his breath. “I knew it. They’re making a statement.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, walking down the stairs toward him, “now what’s _that_ supposed to mean?

Angel looked around. “This many dead bodies couldn't have been collected overnight… they’ve been saving them.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “The missing persons. But most of them went missing weeks ago.”

Angel stooped down, picking up a bit of the dust. “These were newly turned.” Realization hit: “They’ve been keeping them alive, feeding on them. Torturing them for weeks.”

“That’s awful.”

“Vampires are like that,” Angel said. “Sadistic.”

“Well, not all of them.”

Angel looked down at his hand. “The worst ones.” He stood up. “Either way, this isn’t Darla’s style. She’s doing this to send a message.”

“To the slayer.”

“And to me. This torture, this style…” Angel hesitated. “She knows I hate it.”

Buffy looked at the remains. “Anyone would hate mass murder.”

Angel shook his head. “Not the murder: the turning. The torture. The calculations. They’re making an _art_ of death.”

Buffy tried to read Angel’s face, but the only thing she could glean was anger. “So what do we do?”

Angel stood. “We find them before anyone else is hurt, and we put them right back where they came from.”

They heard a _crash_ as Giles burst through the door, cross in hand. He brandished it at Angel before seeing Buffy. He lowered the cross. “I take it the rest of the vampires have been dealt with.” Angel and Buffy nodded.

Giles looked at Angel, suddenly confused by his presence. “Where were you?”

“Out patrolling,” Angel said.

“Looking like that?” Buffy asked. She looked at the hoodie he wore, the hood up to poorly hide his marble face.

“I couldn’t stand to sit still when there were people in danger.”

“Good thing you got here in time,” Buffy said. “I might have been toast.”

Giles narrowed his eyes. “Good thing.”

†

Back at the apartment, Giles slammed the newspaper down on his desk. “No leads, no nothing. Just a trail of dead bodies.”

Buffy grimaced. “No nothing? You must really be stressed if you’re letting go of your grammar.”

“I even asked the man who bought the statues in the first place, but Perren had no information.” Giles turned to Angel. “Do you have anything at all that we haven’t discussed yet?”

Angel shook his head, then quietly said, “I’ve told you all that I know from my experience. But we’re running out of time.” He held up his hands, revealing that most of his arms were flesh again. Now, only his torso and head remained stone.

Buffy’s eyes lit up. “You’ve been reading up on history at Giles’s, correct?” Angel nodded. “Have you been reading about the demon world?”

“I’ve read the ones here.”

Giles shook his head. “No, no, Buffy may be onto something. I only keep a few of my books on demonology here, with the majority residing at the library, including many of the Watcher’s diaries. If you had access to them, would you be able to predict the Whirlwind’s actions better?”

“Probably,” Angel said.

“We’d have to smuggle you past Snyder,” Xander said. His tone turned sarcastic. “He would be so pleased to find a _strange man_ hiding in a high school full of vulnerable children.

“Worse yet, a living statue,” Willow added. “We’ll have to make a disguise.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “My specialty.”

†

Buffy took out her foundation. “I’ve never tried applying foundation to stone before… should we use paint?”

Angel smiled, a whisper of a laugh exiting his lips.

“Whatever you have,” he said softly.

Buffy liberally applied foundation to his marble skin, the brush slipping off of the smooth stone. Buffy finished up on his face. Though the job was spotty, Angel looked, for the first time, like a full-blooded human. She smiled, taking a brush full of blush and swishing it across his cheeks. Then, she sprayed setting spray, making Angel blink in the process.

“Now we just need to give you a jacket, and you’re good to go!”

Buffy pulled out an oversized leather jacket, and Angel slipped it on atop his marble clothes. “A bit conspicuous, don’t you think?” Angel said.

“Nah, bleached hair and leather is a fashion statement nowadays. You’ll blend right in,” Buffy said, looking at her handiwork. “Your shirt already looks like a wifebeater under the jacket.” Buffy opened her closet, unveiling the mirror within.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks, looking at himself. His reflection stared back at him.

“I… there I am.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, “and you look pretty hot already.” She grimaced. “Great, I mean. You know, for a statue,” Buffy backtracked.

Angel didn’t even notice her bumbling, instead moving closer to the mirror. His gaze remained fixed on his reflection, taking it all in.

He turned back toward her. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

Buffy blushed. “No problem at all, honestly; you’ve been so helpful…”

Angel relaxed for a moment, just staring at her. Then, all of a sudden, as if he remembered where he was, he blinked. “Well, we should head outside, meet with the others.”

“Yeah, yeah, we should make our way,” Buffy said, nodding all the while.

They both started to step toward the door but stopped when they saw each other.

“You first,” Angel said.

“No, no, you can go,” Buffy amended.

Angel awkwardly walked through the door. Soon, they both rejoined the Scoobies outside, heading toward town. Angel kept his hands in his pockets, keeping his hands in shadow.

They entered the school, making their way toward the library—

“Excuse me, sir,” a man called out. Giles cursed under his breath as they turned to see Snyder.

“He’s with me, helping out at the library,” Giles explained. 

Snyder narrowed his eyes. “And your relation to this young man?”

“My boyfriend,” Buffy jumped in, grabbing Angel’s hand. Angel stiffened at her touch.

“You brought your student’s boyfriend to help you with the library?”

Giles looked from Buffy to Angel. Only one could actually turn red, but rest assured, Angel would if he could. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Snyder turned up his chin. “He’ll have to sign in through the front office.”

“Yes, of course, my mistake,” Giles said, ushering Angel the other way. “We’ll get right on that.” They bolted toward the library, managing to get inside safely.

“Boyfriend?” Willow whispered to Buffy.

“It was spur-of-the-moment?” Buffy said, grimacing. She looked to Angel. He stood still, staring at the bookshelves around him.

“It’s been a long while since I’ve seen this many books in one place.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed since the stone age,” Xander snarked.

Angel raised his eyebrows. “When was the last time you opened a book for fun?”

Buffy interjected, “Angel, demonology’s over here.” She grabbed his arm and led him to the upper level, where many of the books lay in neatly organized sections. Angel froze, letting himself be led up the stairs.

He shook himself out of his stupor and picked up one of the mystical history books. After scanning the table of contents, he put it back down, picking up another.

“Well,” Buffy said hesitantly, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Buffy backtracked, going back to the main group.

Angel turned back to the book he was reading, for a moment not even reading the words on the page. He felt his hand, still warmed by Buffy’s touch. Then, he started reading, scanning the index for Darla

After Angel found what he was looking for and started reading, Willow sidled up to him. “Why do you keep giving Buffy the brush-off?”

“Sorry?”

“She clearly likes you: she hasn’t done a very good job of hiding it. You clearly like her. So why not take her out to coffee?”

“I can’t exactly drink coffee.”

“She can. She can drink a lot of it—I’ve seen it. And it’s not like you’re doing anything better right now.”

“It’s not wise,” Angel said. “I’m not who she deserves.”

“Well, shouldn’t _she_ decide that?” Willow retorted.

Angel didn’t have an answer. Willow shrugged, and sat down beside Angel. “Suit yourself.” She picked up one of his discarded books and began to read, very pointedly not paying attention to Angel.

Angel said, “...she genuinely likes me?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Are all guys idiots?”

Back down at the tables, Xander looked up from his book to see Buffy staring at the shelves… behind which lay Angel.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

Buffy turned to him, indignant. “I haven’t even said anything!”

“So you admit guilt?”

“No!”

Xander threw up his hands. “All I’m saying is that _my_ encounter with a museum-spawned love interest didn’t go so hot.”

Giles approached, book in hand. “Did you two find something?”

“Only that Xander is an idiot but we already knew that.”

“Hey! I’m just warning Buffy that _maybe_ getting involved with Angel is a bad idea.”

Giles frowned. “Buffy, are you… interested in Angel?”

Buffy looked at Xander, her face deadpan. “Great. You brought _Giles_ into my love life.”

Xander pumped the air. “So you do admit it!”

Giles ignored Xander, focusing on Buffy. “We still know almost nothing about him. I haven’t found anything about him in the texts. For all we know, he’s just as dangerous as the others. How did he discover vampires if he’s human?

Buffy shrugged. “I’ll ask him.”

“Maybe you can actually get a straight answer from him,” Xander muttered.

Giles nodded. “That would be quite helpful, actually. If possible, you should ask him the sooner side.”

Buffy continued, “I will, of course, have to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything in case he is, you know, evil.”

Giles continued nodding.

“In a casual conversation; preferably just the two of us, so he feels private.”

At that point, Giles sighed. Xander, not catching Buffy’s drift, gave an enthusiastic “Yeah! Figure out his secrets!”

Buffy smiled. “Well, in that case, I better ask him to meet with me.”

Peeking out from behind the bookcases, Willow smiled. She turned back to Angel. “You better make your decision on the sooner end, ‘cuz she’s coming your way.

Angel looked up, confused. “What do you—”

No sooner did he start talking than Buffy hopped up to the second level and joined Angel. Willow raised her eyebrows, making eye contact with Angel before rejoining Giles and the others.

“So.” Buffy leaned against the bookshelf. “You’re still hopelessly behind on popular culture.”

“So I’m told.”

“Have you ever even seen a movie?”

Angel cocked his head. “I’ve seen television—”

“No, no. A movie.”

“You know, I don’t think so.”

“In that case, how would you like to come to my house tonight and watch one? My mom’s gone at some exhibition for the weekend. I’ll choose one of the classics,” Buffy said, slightly blushing.

Angel looked down at his book, still open on a portrait of Darla, and back up at Buffy. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

He closed his book, trapping Darla’s image between the pages.

†

Angel got back to Giles’s house easily enough, managing to evade Snyder the second time around. He eyed his notebook, then looked around for Giles. Not seeing him, Angel sat down and began to write.

He scratched out what he had written, tossing it in the trash, He restarted, taking a new sheet of paper. He was about to write a new draft when the doorbell rang. Angel took what he had written, stuffing it into his jacket.

He answered the door and found Buffy.

Buffy looked up at him. “Are you ready?”

Angel smiled.

†

Angel sat on the floor beside Buffy’s couch. “I’m far too old for this.”

Buffy sprawled on the couch above him. “Sure you aren’t. You haven’t been in the loop for a hundred years—there’s only so much you can get from history books.”

She hit play on the remote control; the VHS began playing a copy of _Romeo + Juliet_.

Angel’s eyes widened as he observed the pictures on screen. “This is high production,” he said, looking at the pictures on screen.

Buffy kept looking at Angel. “Yeah, and it’s pretty, too.”

Angel nodded in silent agreement.

†

Back at the library, Giles stole back into his office. “Now, where would he be…” He rifled through his books, discarding volume after volume. Finally, he came upon the Watcher diaries, rifling through for any mention of the Devon Coven. _Aha_. He perused the text, finally finding what he was looking for: the Whirlwind.

He read, “The Whirlwind, a group of four vampires… four?” He backtracked, flipping to another diary from the area. He retraced the Whirlwind’s steps, finally finding mention of a vampire named Angelus.

As he read, his eyes went wide. “Buffy…”

He took off into the night.

†

Angel frowned. “Look, I’ve seen Romeo and Juliet. I’ve even seen the ballet, and this _definitely_ isn’t it.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Bold of you to call this… _elevation_ of the source material bad. Nay, it’s a worthy addition to the Shakespearean pantheon.” When Angel turned around to look at her, she shrugged. “I had to write an essay on it when we were reading Shakespeare.” Buffy’s tone turned serious. “You know, you were around when that all Shakespeare stuff happened.”

Angel chuckled. “That was a bit before my time. I’m not _that_ old.”

“How old are you then?” She transitioned abruptly, “How did you find out about vampires?’

Angel’s face slowly fell. The letter in his pocket weighed heavy—for a moment, he considered taking it out. _No. Not yet_. “A vampire killed my family.”

Buffy looked down. “I’m sorry. So the statue thing was a revenge gig.”

“You could put it that way.”

“What about other than that,” Buffy said. “The rest of your life—not that stuff. Even if you haven’t met Shakespeare or something, you’ve been around a while… what _have_ you witnessed?”

Angel leaned back against the seat cushions. “Well, most of my life has been spent in darkness in one form or another. In the time that my eyes have been open, though, I’ve been to Europe, Greece, China… there’s so much to see.” Angel looked down. “I do miss it.”

Buffy smiled. “Maybe you _will_ see it.”

“I don’t think so.”

Buffy’s face fell. “Why not?”

“If we succeed, I’ll be stone.”

“But what if you didn’t have to be?” Buffy hopped from the couch beside Angel. “You said it yourself—these vampires will be vulnerable to stakes once they aren’t marble. I’m the slayer; I’ll just slay. We can deal with their power just like we did the Master.”

Angel turned to her. “It’s too dangerous. I know them: the safest option is to trap them again. They need to atone.”

“But you’ll be trapped with them!”

“So be it.”

“They can get out, you know,” Buffy said. “One day, somebody will take the sword out again, and you’ll all walk free again. They’ll finally escape, and you’ll have to find a way to stop them.”

“I’ll curse them again with the help of that slayer,” Angel said.

Buffy’s voice gradually increased in volume. “Why are you so dead set on this? You could be free! You could live your life!”

“And risk anyone else getting hurt?” Angel matched her volume. “I’ve hurt enough people in my life!”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

Suddenly, Giles burst through the door.

“Get away from her, _Angelus_ ,” he said, brandishing out a cross.


	6. Lost

Giles advanced on Angel, the cross held in the air.

“Giles, what are you doing?” Buffy said.

Giles ignored Buffy, looking at Angel. “Did you think you could conceal your nature forever?”

Speechless, Angel looked from Giles to Buffy and back again.

“I found nothing about you in the texts, but then it occurred to me it’s been ages since I read the diaries of the Watchers who came before me,” Giles said with venom. “There’s a mention over two hundred years ago in Ireland of Angelus, the one with the angelic face.”

Buffy turned to Angel, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

Giles continued, accusatory, “Angelus leaves Ireland, wreaks havoc in Europe for several decades. Then, a most curious thing happens: eighty years ago he and his companions just disappeared. There’s no record of him hunting… or any record at all. Perhaps because he was sealed in stone.”

Buffy shook her head. “There’s no way. Angel?”

Giles finally turned to Buffy. “Buffy, get away from him.”

Buffy took a step away from Angel. “Angel? He’s wrong, isn’t he?”

Angel looked helplessly between the two. “I…” Finally, Angel spoke. “He’s… he’s right.”

Buffy’s face flickered between shock, betrayal, and anger.

“I am a vampire.”

“Were you really patrolling that night? Have you been conspiring with the Whirlwind?” Giles said.

Angel stood up, slowly raising himself to his full height. “Absolutely not. I can explain.”

Buffy stood up, too, darting to Giles’s side. She grabbed a cross from the end table beside her.

Angel looked sorrowful. “Those won’t work, not while I’m still marble. The curse blocks any vampiric—”

“Get out,” Giles said, not waiting for the end of Angel’s statement.

Angel raised his hands, backing toward the door. The letter in his pocket dislodged, falling to the floor. “I just want to say—”

Buffy stepped forward. “Get out,” she nearly snarled.

He turned around, taking one last look at Buffy. He started to say something else, but stopped short, instead bolting out the door.

†

Angel ran. As he ran, the streetlights above him illuminated him: the dark space between lamps left him flickering in and out of view like a stroboscope. It was blocks before he finally stopped, panting, but not because he needed air. His chest rose and fell, a cheap imitation of human life.

Human life. He almost laughed at the thought. The truth was finally out; he should have seen it coming. Yet another punishment from whomever sat in God’s seat.

Angel looked around at his surroundings. He was at the Bronze. As he was getting his bearings, Willow and Xander walked out from the door. Angel cursed under his breath. Before Angel could turn tail and disappear—

“Angel!” Willow yelled over the noise. “Where’s Buffy?”

Angel approached them. “She’s back at her house.”

“Cool.” Willow frowned. “Wait, what about the date?”

“Ended early, so I headed out to gather intel… I’m trying to find the Whirlwind.”

“Well, do you need help?” Willow said. Xander shook his head at Willow, but she elbowed him.

“No. This is personal.” Angel paused a moment. “Actually, can you give Buffy a message?”

Willow frowned. “Alright.”

“Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? About what?”

Before Willow could clarify, Angel disappeared into the night.

Xander and Willow were left carrying the takeout bag of their onion rings.

“Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all,” Xander said.

Willow shrugged. “If it isn’t cryptic, it isn’t Angel.”

They began heading back to Giles’s apartment.

†

As soon as Angel was out of sight, Buffy crumpled.

Giles said, “Are you hurt?”

“Why did he lie?” Buffy said. “He could have fed on me, but he didn’t. Worse, he could have killed me.”

“Probably biding his time,” Giles said. “Are you hurt?”

Buffy sat back on the couch. “No. Angel…”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sat down alongside her. “We should check his belongings before he gets to them, see if we can glean anything regarding the Whirlwind.”

Buffy nodded, pulling herself back to reality. _._

As they pulled into Giles’s driveway, Xander and Willow walked up. Willow waved, holding up the bag of onion rings. Buffy got out of the car and joined the two.

“Hey! Good night of slaying? Angel told us the talk ended a little early,” Xander said snidely. “Must not have been a good date.”

Buffy instantly went on guard. “You saw Angel?”

Willow piped up, “Yeah. Oh! Angel told us to tell you something. He said he’s sorry?”

Giles got out of the car. “Angel must be trying to get into your head, Buffy.”

Willow’s smile faltered. “Did something happen?”

Buffy sighed.

†

As Angel entered the demon bar, heads turned. He paid no attention, going directly to the barkeep Willy.

“Where is Darla?”

Willy raised his hands. “Sorry, man, but I don’t know. These fellas would know better than me.”

Angel looked back, finding that most of the vampires around him had stood up and were making their way toward him.

Angel’s marble face deformed, becoming that of a vampire’s.

“Wrong answer.”

He lunged at the group—

†

The Scoobies rummaged through Angel’s things, unearthing books upon books in his trunk. Giles and Willow took to reading through them for notes, while Buffy took to reading his notebook.

As she flipped through it, she caught snippets of conversation, one-sided statements that he had shown the Scoobies. The further into the book Buffy looked, the fewer there were, until these statements stopped altogether. Then, the drawings started.

The first few were of the apartment, of street lights and cars, wonders of the new world. Angel drew mugs of instant coffee and individual cassettes, each with little notes written alongside them. _Pink Floyd. Celebrity. Google?_

Then, the art became portraits, small sketches of the Scoobies’ meetings. Giles sitting on the couch. Willow leaning on the counter. Xander tripping.

And then… Buffy. She was everywhere: a drawing of her laughing. A figure drawing of her slaying a vampire. Her face, outlined with charcoal. Buffy almost smiled… but then she remembered the context.

A few pages were torn, Buffy noted, near the end. Angel had taken out a few to write _something_.

Vampires were peppered throughout the book. A face here, a scrawled name there. A foreign blonde’s face haunted the pages, smiling or laughing but slashed by dark ink.

“Nothing here,” Buffy said to the group, pocketing the book.

“I think I’ve found a spell to uninvite him,” Willow said, reading from one of Angel's abandoned books. “We don’t need much. We just need to burn a few moss herbs, recite a couple couplets.”

The ritual was easy enough to complete for the apartment, with Giles already having most of the necessary materials. After that, it was time to tackle Buffy’s home.

The group headed inside, but Buffy paused in the front yard, looking up at her bedroom window. There were so many things that could have gone wrong: Angel could have killed her while she slept, for all she knew. _But he didn’t_ , and that’s what bugged her.

Buffy stepped forward toward her doorstep, but stopped when she heard a crinkling. She looked down and spotted a crumpled paper laying on the ground. She picked it up. Buffy soon recognized Angel’s elegant script.

_“Sometimes, the truth is worse than a lie, but Buffy, you need to know the truth if this—whatever this is—is to continue._

_“This marble isn’t the only curse I have to bear: I am a vampire._ ”

Buffy scoffed. “Now you tell me.”

Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the bushes: on edge, she whirled, brandishing her stake, but she didn’t see anything. She breathed out, relaxing.

_“I murdered for a hundred years. Many years ago, though, I fed on a girl about your age. The elders of her clan concocted a perfect punishment for me—they returned my soul._

_“When you become a vampire, the demon takes your body. But it doesn’t get your soul. That’s gone. No conscience, no remorse… it’s an easy way to live. You have no idea what it’s like to have done the things I’ve done, and to care. And I’ve done horrible things._

Buffy stopped reading, stepping inside the house and sitting down on her couch.

Back in the bushes, a crouching Angel breathed a sigh of relief.

_“I tried to live the way I always had, but my victims stared up at me in my dreams. All the while, the Whirlwind continued to run rampant._

_“I came up with a plan. I rejoined the Whirlwind, gained their trust. I travelled with them to Europe. Then—I alerted a group of witches in the area, the Devon coven, of our location, told them our plans. I promised to help them, but what I didn’t know was that they planned to imprison me, too._

_“They ambushed us in the countryside. I stood with the Coven, finally unveiling my allegiance to the rest of the Whirlwind. The witches called upon the power of Athena and Hecate to bind them, a spell that required a sacrifice—and there happened to be a vampire with a soul conveniently close by. I was stabbed with the sword, sealing all four of us in stone. I was frozen in the very position in which I was stabbed._

_“But what the witches didn’t foresee (or maybe they did) was that we weren’t killed. My eyes may have been closed, but I was still aware. I couldn’t see the world, nor could I move. I was trapped._

_“We were buried, rediscovered, toured in art museums around the globe. I couldn't see the world in front of me, only hearing conversation. I learned only parts of history, of the world wars, of art movements and riots and rebellion. I wanted to shed my marble tomb and become human._

_“Then, something extraordinary happened: I was kissed and released. I opened my eyes, and there you were. I didn’t want you to know my misdeeds, not when I had a clean slate in front of me. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was fate. All I knew is that I didn’t want to ruin it with Angelus._

_“Buffy, you are my world, and I cannot fail you again._

_“I love you._

_“I will fix this mess I created. I will find that sword, and I will do whatever it takes to stop the Whirlwind._

Buffy clutched the paper so hard that it tore between her hands.

“Buffy?” Willow called from upstairs. “We’re about to conduct the ritual.”

Buffy yelled up, “Coming!” She rejoined the Scoobies upstairs.

Outside, Angel clutched another note in his hand. _Meet me at the museum tonight. —A_

He climbed the steps up toward Buffy’s door, moving to put it in the mail slot, but he stopped short. _No. I’ll get the sword first_.

He stepped back down, taking one last look at Buffy through the window before continuing on his path toward the warehouse.

†

Angel carefully opened the window of the large warehouse, jumping inside with barely a sound. He stayed in the shadows of the catwalk, spotting Darla lounge on the throne-like chair in the center of the warehouse. He watched her a moment, taking in her features. She was still beautiful, an effigy carved by Lucifer himself. He wrenched himself away from her, instead scanning the area. No sword. What he did see wasa basement… but he had to get to it.

Angel leapt silently to a chain, using it to climb to the main floor. He hit the ground and stooped low, hiding behind some boxes.

He sensed a presence behind him—quickly, he darted backward, further into the shadows.

Back in the main room, Darla’s eyes narrowed. She looked around, seeing Drusilla and Spike wandering in.

“You two are happy,” she said.

“Oh, she’s excited to see Angel again,” Spike said, his arm around her.

Drusilla cocked her head, reflective. “He’s around here somewhere. I can feel him.”

Angel looked back toward where Spike and Drusilla came, finding a door. He darted toward it, quietly closing it behind him. The muffled conversation continued through the door, but Angel rushed downstairs instead of listening.

At the end of the hall were two doors. He leaned in, listening at one of the doors. Beyond it, he heard shuffling. Angel opted for the other door, peeking into an apparently unoccupied bedroom. Dolls lined the walls: Drusilla’s, probably. He rummaged through the cabinets by the wall, but he found nothing. Angel cursed under his breath, moving back toward the entrance, but stopped short.

Drusilla stood, Spike in hand. “Told you.”

Angel broke one of the posts of the four poster bed, cracking it to form a weapon.

Spike sneered. “Right to business, eh, sire?”

Angel looked between the two. “Where is the sword?”

Spike laughed. “Like we’d tell you.” “I’ll find it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Darla’s voice wafted down the stairs. She stepped down, holding one of the warehouse chains between her hands. “But you won’t get that chance.”

Angel leapt at Drusilla, trying to grab hold of her hair, but no sooner did he get to her than Spike tore him off of her. Drusilla brought down one of her dolls on Angel’s head, slightly stunning him. Spike managed to clamp down on his wrist, ripping him back toward the bed and the exposed wood. He held Angel against the bed frame, but Angel shifted, throwing off Spike’s balance and allowing him to launch himself from the bed frame back into action.

But suddenly something else collided with his head, and Angel dully noted that this time, there was a _crack_. He blinked, dizzy and barely registered as Darla wrapped the chains around his wrists. He looked backward to see Drusilla hefting a solid tabletop above her head. As she cracked it against his head once more, his vision faded to black.

†

When Angel came to, Spike was staring down at him. He leaped up—

But chains stopped him mid-motion, causing him to stop just before his face.

“Careful there,” Spike said, “you don’t want to tire yourself out this early.”

Angel scanned the room around him. Other figures lay on the ground, also in chains. From the smell of them, Angel could tell that they were human.

“Well, at least you’re closer to the sword now,” Darla said, leaning down beside him, “not that it’ll do you any good.”

Angel glanced at Spike. He was wearing Angel’s jacket. “I’ll give you this, you’ve got a fashion sense,” Spike said. “I could get used to this leather."

Angel couldn’t help but glance to the pocket where his letter had lain.

Darla followed his gaze.“Oh that’s gone, my boy,” Darla said. “I suspect we’ll be having a nice evening with it. Who wouldn’t want to reunite with their love?”

Angel snarled, snapping the chains taught.

“Well, we better be off,” Darla said, standing. “We have a bit of a meeting to get to.”

They shut the basement door behind them, leaving Angel in darkness.


	7. Open

At the end of the night, Buffy was left alone in a house that smelled strangely of moss herbs and garlic. She made the rounds, going to every room and making sure they were secure.

By the door, though, she stepped on what sounded like an autumn leaf. Looking down, she found it was a note: she snatched it up. _Meet me at the museum tonight. —A_

 __Buffy smiled, relieved. She called Willow, explaining what she had read. “He wants to meet me at the museum tonight.”

Willow sounded uncertain. “I don’t know… he did some horrible things.”

Buffy looked out the window. “I just… I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He could have hurt me so many times, and he didn’t. I’ll take my stake, I’ll be careful, but I at least owe him a chance to explain.”

“Buffy. This could end very badly.”

“I trust Angel. And besides,” Buffy said. “What’s one vampire against the Slayer?” She hung up even as Willow protested.

†

Angel struggled against the chains with no luck. They didn’t budge. His eyes slowly adjusted to the faint light. He looked desperately around, glancing at another person nearby who began struggling as the rest of the Whirlwind left. A flash of light caught something in his hand: a metal shard. The boy attempted to pick the lock.

“Toss that to me,” Angel said.

He looked up toward Angel. “No offense, but you’re literally a vampire. I’ve spent too long working on getting this to give it up now.”

“I’m not like them.”

The boy nodded. “Sure.”

“What’s your name?”

“Oz.”

“Angel.”

“I would shake your hand, but there are a couple of reasons why that’s not going to work right now.” Oz continued to pick at the lock, but fumbled, muttering under his breath.

Angel watched his efforts. “You’re pushing too hard on the tumblers, you’re just going to break them.”

Oz looked back up at Angel. “What would you suggest I do?” he asked, genuine.

“If you angle the lock up, it’ll probably help.” Oz complied, satisfied when he heard a click. “Thanks.” Oz took out one of his hands from the shackle, rubbing the reddened wrist. He turned to the next shackle.

“Please,” Angel said. “I need to help the woman I love.”

Oz raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing this for love. I didn’t think vampires did that.”

“Her name’s Buffy.”

“Oh. Isn’t she friends with that redhead?”

“Yes, and if I don’t get to her, then her and her friends are probably all dead.”

At this, Oz paused. “How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?”

“You don’t. But I could really use your help.”

Oz’s second shackle clicked, and he released it. Oz hesitated, then passed Angel the lockpick.

“You probably know how to use them better than me.”

Angel deftly inserted the thin metal into the lock, releasing his wrists quickly. He passed the lockpicks back to Oz. “Thank you,” he said.

Oz nodded. “Hopefully I won’t see you again.”

“You won’t have to.”

As Oz began unlocking the rest of the prisoners, Angel found the door. He emerged to find himself at the other side of the basement door, across from Drusilla’s room. The two vampires standing guard reached out to stop him, but he took a cue from Drusilla and whacked their heads together. He broke off another stake from the bed frame and dispatched them.

Angel leapt up the stairs two at a time, scanning his surroundings. He was back in the warehouse. _Where could the sword be?_ His gaze turned to the throne where Darla had been sitting. He approached the chair, noticing hinges on the back of the seat. He lifted up the covering: light now glinted off of the Sword of Medusa.

He grabbed the sword and raced off into the night.

†

Buffy stepped into the museum exhibit. It was dark, save for the spotlights on each of the remaining statues.

A dark shape leaned against the wall, a dark leather jacket draped around his shoulders. He stepped into the light… Not Angel. Darla.

“Now you’re the pretty girl who took the sword. I supposed I owe you a debt.”

She stepped out of the shadows, and Buffy saw that she, too, was no longer solely marble—she may have been a statue, but now, the entirety of her body was flesh, save for the head.

“Where’s Angel?”

“Oh, he’s not around to save you,” Darla sneered.

“I don’t need saving.”

“Not yet.” She looked toward the door. “You can come out now.”

Buffy watched as Willow sheepishly gave up her ground, stepping into the room. Giles and Xander soon followed. Buffy looked around, trying to find the rest of the Whirlwind. She didn’t have to look long; they came out from the shadows beside the Scoobies.

“Now,” Darla said, “if you don’t want your friends to die, you’ll stay still and let us kill the slayer.”

“So Angel gave us up?” Giles said.

“Even worse: he told the truth and failed anyways.”

“Well,” Buffy said, “I bet I can still probably kick your butts.”

“Do try,” Darla sneered.

In one moment, they leaped at each other, colliding with a flurry of fists. Back at the door, the Scoobies fought tooth and nail against Drusilla and Spike.

Buffy slammed into Darla’s, shattering the glass case behind them as Buffy held Darla against the display. Buffy brandished her stake and lunged at Darla, plunging it directly into the center of her chest.

Buffy felt her stake break beneath the skin.

Darla just laughed. “I may be back, but I still heart of stone, dear.”

Then, Darla took a shot of her own, reversing their positions and pushing Buffy against the case. Broken glass dug into Buffy’s back as Darla held her fast. Buffy tried to reach a cross, but Darla clamped her hand on Buffy’s wrist.

Darla leaned, close to Buffy’s ear. “Not so tough now, slayer?”

“Buffy!”

Angel’s voice boomed across the hall. Both Buffy and Darla looked up toward him—

He stood, clutching the sword of Medusa in one hand, a cross in the other. Buffy could see the smoke rising from his shaking fist, yet he held on.

Spike looked on, miffed. “How’d he get out so quickly?”

Darla just sneered, still looking toward Angel. “My dear boy thinks he’ll make a difference.”

Using Darla’s momentary distraction, Buffy used the case as leverage to hop up, kicking Darla square in the chest and dislodging Darla from her place above Buffy. Darla stumbled back, snarling.

“He already has,” Buffy said. She lunged toward Darla with holy water in hand, taking the glass bottle and shattering it on Darla’s exposed chest. Darla screamed, clawing at her smoking clothes. Willow did the same to Drusilla, causing Dru to stumble backward into Spike’s arms. He caught her, using his body to shield her from Giles and Xander doing the same. He set her down behind a case, and his head twisted, fixing onto Buffy.

As Buffy ran toward Angel, he tossed the sword to her. It arced in the air, glittering in the yellow artificial light. Buffy reached out to catch the hilt—

But Spike rammed into Buffy’s side, knocking her to the ground. The sword clattered to the ground.

He pressed her to the ground, predatory. “I’m not going back to that bloody cage,” he said, lunging at her neck. She rolled, coming out from under him. He clawed at her, grabbing onto her jacket, but she kicked at his chest, driving him back.

“Why, you little—”

She kicked again, her boots hitting his face with a satisfying _crack_. His head whipped backward, a crack now running from his eye through his eyebrow all the way to his hairline.

Buffy got to her feet, looking desperately for where the sword had been. Her eyes landed on Drusilla… the point of the sword pressed into Giles’s chest.

Drusilla cocked her head. “Do you look like all the others on the inside? Or are you stone, too?”

Behind Buffy, Spike chuckled. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Buffy heard Spike get to his feet.

Angel approached Drusilla, his hands raised. “Dru, give me the sword before anyone else gets hurt.”

Drusilla turned toward Angel. “Now _you_ look like me inside, don’t you?”

Buffy very slowly walked toward Drusilla, step by step.

A flash of a smile passed through Angel’s face. “Want to stab me with that sword and find out?”

Drusilla laughed. “You can’t trick me, daddy. I know your schemes.”

Buffy made it to Drusilla. Buffy grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from Giles.

“I guess you don’t know mine.”

Drusilla snarled, her vamp face on. Buffy twisted her arms behind her, prying the sword from her grasp. She stepped back, throwing Drusilla to the ground.

Buffy looked up toward the window: the new moon was starting to rise in the sky, and as she looked at Angel, she saw that his face was nearly flesh once more.

“We have to do it now!” Giles yelled, now grappling with Darla.

Angel ran to Buffy, pulling her away from the crawling Drusilla toward an empty corner.

She pulled away to look at him. The marble was creeping past his mouth, leaving his face almost completely flesh.

“Now or never,” he said.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

Angel shook his head. “No more death.”

“But what about you?”

“You’ll find a way,” he said.

She hesitated, then grabbed onto his shirt collar and drew him toward her, kissing him softly. The battle quieted behind them as they closed their eyes, Buffy feeling for the first time flesh in her embrace.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

Angel smiled sadly. “I love you…”

Buffy looked up at him. “Don’t close your eyes this time.”

Angel nodded, his gaze glued to her.

Then, Buffy stepped back and thrusted the sword through his chest.

An unearthly roar howled through the museum. Angel gasped, a shudder running through his body. His eyes opened wide, looking around at his surroundings one last time, then at Buffy.

Buffy couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink as Angel stared at her, tracing his eyes along every last inch of her face.

Angel reached out to her, but the marble is coming down from his face now, down his torso and arms. Just as he came close enough to touch her—

The marble reaches his hands.

He was still. The life left his eyes.

The racket from behind Buffy died instantly, smothering the exhibit in silence.

Dead silence.

Buffy stepped toward Angel (not quite Angel anymore, but just a statue). She looked up at his face. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where Buffy had stood.

His expression was different, this time. More serene. There was a grim acceptance in his face, and there was love.

She wrapped her hands around his torso and held him, feeling the cool stone beneath her hands rather than flesh.

“I love you,” Buffy repeated, her words bouncing through the empty halls and landing back beside her.

But now, Angel couldn’t say them back.

Buffy released herself from the embrace, looking back up into Angel’s face.

“The others are stone as well,” Giles whispered, not quite cracking the hold that silence had on the room.

“Good,” Buffy said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be staying here a while.”

Buffy heard the footfalls of the Scoobies as they left her, but she didn’t notice, still staring up at Angel. Buffy lowered herself to the base of the pedestal and simply sat by Angel’s side.


	8. Epilogue: Missing

The next days passed by quickly. The Anointed One’s vampires were easy to intimidate with their leader dead. The Scoobies quickly found their base of operations in the warehouse, what with the dozens of people being released from inside. The Scoobies found a new help in the form of a certain redhead named Oz, who, having found out that vampires existed, apparently did not want to go back to normal life. Willow in particular seemed to enjoy his company.

Other than the fallout of the Whirlwind, Sunnydale was shockingly normal. Buffy’s classes were usual, and her rounds were uneventful.

...But every night, after patrolling the cemetery, after the museum closed down, Buffy visited the statue room.

Buffy managed to convince the curator to move the other statues to another room, leaving her free to have private, if one-sided, conversations. Each night, she came back with new information that the Scoobies had gathered about the curse, more hope.

“We managed to contact the Devon Coven today,” she said on a Wednesday. On the next, she followed up, “They haven’t responded yet, but Giles is going to pull a few strings in the Council.”

It wasn’t all just bits of information. No, Buffy brought books and music to curb the boredom that she could only imagine Angel was feeling.

"I miss you."

Helpless, he couldn't reply.

A few weeks passed, and finally Buffy was able to bring good news.

“They’re interested in helping us remove your curse!” Buffy said loudly, entering the chamber. She held a portable stereo in hand. “Somebody’s going to fly in next week to help research!”

She turned the corner—

Angel was gone.

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks.

She raced to the other rooms. No Whirlwind.

When she burst into the main office, the curator explained, “Sold in an auction, the lot of ‘em. Now, some law firm has them down in Los Angeles.”

“But they’re still here, right? In storage?” Buffy asked. “They’ve not left yet?”

“The firm took them this morning,” the curator said, disinterested. “They’re gone.”

Buffy staggered back, unsteady. 

_I couldn’t even say goodbye._

†

In the weeks that followed, Buffy got back to work. There were new threats in town, new vampires to slay.

...But Buffy couldn’t help but wonder.

 _What might have been if Angel hadn’t been cursed?_ Buffy pondered. _Would we still have met?_

_Who knows._

As it were, Buffy would just have to wonder and wish that Angel had made a different choice back in 1900.

†

A group of mailmen unloaded four large parcels from the back of a large moving truck, flanked by security. They handled the boxes carefully—the Senior Partners paid too much for anything to be damaged in the move.

The workers moved the parcels onto the service elevator and down, deeper and darker, until they slowed to a stop in storage. Carefully, the parcels were unboxed, revealing four unerringly realistic statues. They were shifted into place, and the workers left, locking the door tightly behind them.

“Tell Manners that his cargo’s here,” a lawyer said to his aide. “We’ve got a prophecy to fulfill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed my first foray into IWRY! I'm happy to have contributed :) I have one more story coming up this November. Otherwise, I'm on tumblr at @merelyspecters.


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